The Golden Child is coming!
The Golden Child is coming!
Oh my FUCKING GOD the Golden Child is coming.
And apparently we are doing a separate Christmas for him.
And all the good shit is getting broken out for the Golden ‘ coming.
Angels will sing and stars will shine brighter and life will be Happy! and Shiny! for the two days he will be here.
The GC will be here late evening on December 18. We must allow the GC to recuperate from his long haul flight of 2 hours from Sydney and sleep all day the next day. But on the 20th, we will have Christmas! With ALL THE TRIMMINGS!
Because, I don’t know if you fucking know, but the GOLDEN CHILD IS COMING!!!
You know, the one that never calls. Or sends cards. Or makes contact during any important events like brain surgery, chemotherapy or death.
MOTY came over on Friday, plonked herself on my lounge and after watching Bold and the Beautiful, proceeded to make a list of what we needed to buy for Christmas.
Cause apparently, regardless of whether I cook it or she does, I have to pay for three quarters of the food ‘seeing it is just your father and I’.
Oh yes she did.
So she is all ‘we will have this and this and this and you will buy this and this and this’ and I was all ‘hold up woman, that is a lot of food for just the seven of us, considering Boo will just have a packet of French Fries and a bunch of grapes’ and she is all ‘no, this is for when your brother *insert angels singing here* comes.’
And I was all boggley. And she was all ‘waaaaaaaaat?’
‘Um, I will pay for Christmas Day, you know December 25th, but if you want to throw another one the week before you are on your own lady’
‘What? I can’t pay for all this myself.’
‘Well get GC to throw in a few shekels then’
‘I can’t do that! He is a guest!‘
And I waited and waited and fucking WAITED for the ‘boom tish’ of the cymbals to denote that this was a freaking joke…
But she was totally serious.
Because he is the Golden Child.
Fuck me dead.
And she has invited the whole extended family to come too. As guests.
On a happier note, today I started decorating for Christmas. A whole week earlier than usual.
Normally on December 1 I run around like a freaking mad-woman trying to decorate every single room, trim eleventy hundred trees, and do the decorating inside and out, glistening* like a mofo in the sweltering heat, bitchin’ and moanin’ and feeling all together un-Christmassy.
Yesterday I made sweet love to a few storage containers in Target and bought some new baubles for the new tree for the family room. Moo wouldn’t let me buy the 12ft tall inflatable Santa coming out of the chimney, deeming it ‘tacky and tasteless’. What does a Damn Emo know about tacky and tasteless I ask you?
So I am going back to buy it next week. And putting it outside her bedroom window…
Dining room is finished.
See the little hats and mittens on my babies! So damn cute, I could vomit.
Simple. Clean. Uncluttered.
And I am feeling the Christmas lurve. Cause it tis the season for awesome cocktails and partying on down with my biatches.
Did I mention the awesome cocktails? Cause that is what Christmas is all about isn’t it?
* ladies don’t sweat. They glisten.